


Chiaroscuro

by biohazard_babe, shipshape_sheep



Category: Ghost Adventures (TV), Ghost Adventures RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Friendship, Friendship/Love, Ghosts, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Male-Female Friendship, Necromancy, New Orleans, Paranormal, Paranormal Investigations, Self-Acceptance, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biohazard_babe/pseuds/biohazard_babe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipshape_sheep/pseuds/shipshape_sheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Orleans is a city notorious for its haunted history. When one trip to the Crescent City isn't enough, Zak Bagans and the Ghost Adventures Crew look for places to investigate. There is a sadness there that keeps pulling at Zak, wanting him to investigate the ghosts left behind after Hurricane Katrina. At the suggestion of Bloody Mary the Voodoo Queen, they are directed to an odd little bookstore named Chiaroscuro, which specializes in many forms of Witchcraft and Necromancy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Must Be the Season of the Witch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipshape_sheep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipshape_sheep/gifts).



> This is a gift fiction for my very good friend shipshape_sheep.  
> As always this is a work of fiction. I own nothing, please don't sue me. 
> 
> “All gods who receive homage are cruel. All gods dispense suffering without reason. Otherwise they would not be worshipped. Through indiscriminate suffering men know fear and fear is the most divine emotion. It is the stones for altars and the beginning of wisdom. Half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. Real gods require blood.”  
> — Zora Neal Hurston Their Eyes Were Watching God

Autumn in New Orleans is a special time of year. It’s different than other cities, because while the decorations go up, and the hint of Halloween is in the air, the Big Easy is one of the cities in the United States that is truly haunted. The streets are filled with buildings that feel much older than they should be. The shadows flowing with a hint of something watching, something that darted out of sight. It wasn’t uncommon for a tourist to duck into their shop and ask if they’d seen someone walking by. Typically, Chiaroscuro Occult Bookshop was staffed by two women, Jasmin and Hazel. They were Midwestern transplants who’d come to Louisiana on a break from Graduate School. Hazel was deciding if she wanted to go one to become a writing instructor, and Jasmine wasn’t sure if a PhD was in the cards for her. The shop was notorious for its odd hours, but more importantly, its extensive library of books on witchcraft, the occult, and the paranormal. 

The modest storefront was inviting and unlike the other stores in the City, was located on Magazine Street between antique stores, bars, and tourist shops. Most of New Orleans occult attractions were in the French Quarter, complete with flashy signs, sigils, or window chalk to bring in tourists and witches alike. The proprietress of this store was currently waiting inside, leaning against a low table, and spinning a large ring of keys around one finger. She’d gotten a call from a friend, a crew was coming into town and wanted to ask about a few locations that were famously haunted. And while Abigail LaCroix was more than happy to oblige, she wasn’t sure just how much help she or Hazel would be. This team had supposedly been in town before and worked with members of the community already, so why come to her? 

Her eyes scanned the large window, catching sight of the cars milling back and forth in the narrow streets. Even at this time of year, Magazine Street was filled with onlookers, tourists, and locals attempting to go about their daily business. The weather was mild, so unlike the unforgiving heat that was doubled with grueling humidity in the warmer months. A large grandfather clock ticked contentedly in the corner, showing the time as just after lunch. They weren’t late, but they were pushing it. If there was one thing Abigail couldn’t stand it was tardiness. Just as she was about to give up, two men came down the sidewalk and moved towards the door. An eyebrow arched, as she could sense very easily the presence of the shorter man, followed up by the feeling of the taller. Heels clicked across the battered hardwood floor, her skirts moving past stacks of books, and brushing against the store cat, Hemingway. Unlocking the door, she would smile brightly, greeting the pair.

Once the door opened, the pair were greeted by a short woman, obviously a native. She was short, only about five foot or so with large natural curls that were dark brown mixed with grey. She looked every part of the owner of a metaphysical shop, what with her long dark skirts, gemstone jewelry and the cat peering from behind her. However, once the door came open, there was a push of energy that caused Zak to stumble back for a moment. Not so much that it didn’t want him there, but enough for him to know the store itself was old, and that it had been there for decades. A heaviness settled in his chest, causing him to cough involuntarily into his hand. He was just about to introduce himself and his best friend, when a coughing fit overtook him.

“Hello, you must be Zak Bagans and..?” She’d blanked on the second man’s name, which was a real shame. She used to pride herself on her memory. “Aaron. Uh, Aaron Goodwin” He chimed in helpfully, a friendly smile on his face, a hand waving to dismiss her expression, “Happens all the time, it’s cool.” Head cocking to the side as they walked past, Abigail would let it slide. He seemed nice enough, and her friends weren’t the type to send her customers who weren’t worth her time. “So, how can I help you?” Aaron gave a gentle shrug of his shoulders as he looked around at the dimly lit store. Besides stacks of books, cabinets held bones, skulls, stones, and other tools for the numerous practices the store supported. He was content to look around, in this line of work he’d seen all sorts of stores. His eyes slid from one wall, across the long white table with an old cash register on it. It was enameled and obviously old, sort of like the tables that he’d seen at Waverly Hills, and then his gaze went to the other wall. For a split second, he wasn’t sure that he was registering his surroundings correctly. Looking back to it, he would point, “Is that an autopsy table?” Abigail looked up from the cat who was attempting to wind his way around her legs.

“Oh that old thing? It is, came from a funeral home that went bust. They were auctioning off the tools and furniture and it wound up here.” Giving an airy shrug, her steps were confident as she came to stand behind it, hands touching the cool surface. “But I doubt you came to talk about this table. How can I help you?” Aaron was interested in the object, coming forward to get a better look. Zak had been quiet since they entered the shop, his hands in his pockets. “We were sent here by a friend of yours, Bloody Mary. She told us she would be gone when we came through town but told us to come here.” He was somewhat standoffish with this new owner. Perhaps it was the table on display, or the array of materials, or maybe it was just being back in New Orleans and feeling the sadness that pulled at him. 

“Yes, I was wondering why she sent you here. I understand you’ve been to New Orleans before and did some investigating. I suppose the Big Easy called you back?” Zak nodded reaching up to adjust his glasses for a moment. “Yeah, we did. We decided to come back to see if we couldn’t do some more investigating about Katrina’s victims and a few locations that we didn’t get to last time.” That explained why they’d been sent her way. It was an honor to be recommended by Bloody Mary and Christian Day, they did plenty of the work with the dead and to be trusted when she was out of town was no small feat. “I see. So how can I help you? I’m not sensing that you’re here for books or tokens.” The lack of an answer was her answer. She’d been their show in passing, and while she didn’t agree with all of their methods, she found it refreshing to see their approach. Running a hand back through his hair, Zak would muster up an explanation, “Sorry if we got off to the wrong fit, I haven’t been feeling sort of strange since we walked in the door.” Raising a finger in the air, Abigail was gone in a whirl of skirts. She opened a cabinet and dug about inside of it before bringing out a battered old candlestick. “I’m so sorry, I should have done this when I first got here, but I got distracted. Jasmine usually does this when she comes in, but we were closed last night.” Placing a black candle into the holder, she would strike a match, lighting the candle. Once it began burning, she would look up, “Feeling better?”

The change was almost instant. The heaviness of the store started to lift off of his shoulders, and he exhaled a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, “Yeah.. What the hell do you have in this store?” The twinkle in her eye told him it was more than just tourist books on history and bags filled with herbs, “Well, that’s why Rose sent you here. We specialize in many branches of the occult.” Moving the candlestick aside, she would continue to smile as if the exchange hadn’t taken place, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. “We’re interested in finding someone who can get us in touch with some spirits who’ve been left behind after the storm. Maybe get us in touch with some of the other famous ghosts in town?” Abigail frowned, watching the pair closely as Aaron walked about the store, stopping to scratch Hemingway behind the ears. The cat had taken a liking to him and was rubbing against his jeans, purring loudly. “So are you looking for a tour guide, or someone to point you somewhere?” Zak shook his head, “No, I just, I’m a little tired from our trip. What we normally do is find a location, interview witnesses and then go in for an investigation and see if we can get into contact with the entity.” 

Her lips pursed for a moment as she tried to think of who she could send, or even suggest. “That’s a toughie. It depends on what sort of individual you’re looking for. Rose mentioned she’ done a ritual for you before, and if that’s what you’re looking for, I’d be your best bet. But if you’re looking to get in touch, you might want to get yourself a Necromancer.” Zak looked up from the candle flame into Abigail’s face, “A Necromancer? That’s a real thing?” She gave a little nod, crossing her arms, “Necromancy is actually more common than you think. You’d have better luck with that than an elaborate ritual, especially if you’ve done one before.” That was something to consider. The network wanted something different, something they hadn’t tried before. They’d been renewed for a few more seasons, but adding something new after losing a cast member wouldn’t hurt, “Where do we find a Necromancer in New Orleans?”  
There was the sound of keys turning in the door, and Abigail’s face lit up, “You’re in luck. I happen to employ one.”


	2. Fist Pounding on a Vending Machine, Toy Diamond Ring Stuck on her Finger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Whenever you are about to find fault with someone, ask yourself the following question: What fault of mine most nearly resembles the one I am about to criticize?”  
> — Marcus Aurelius

Between juggling her heavy canvas bag, fumbling with keys, and trying to keep her phone wedged between her shoulder and cheek, Jasmin could have easily been defined as a mess. She’d worked the shift from six in the evening to three in the morning. The shop kept hours that were best described as eclectic. You never knew when one of the pagans in the area would be rushing in for a spell candle, a text, or wanted a sachet put together. It was a nice change from Graduate School, so she couldn’t complain.  
She was fumbling again, shifting her hip into an awkward turn as she attempted to keep up the conversation with her roommate, Hazel, and not drop the heavy bag hanging in the crook of her elbow. “Shit.. Hazel.. Just give me two ticks, okay? The door is stuck-“ A hot sheen of sweat her broken out on her forehead, her phone’s screen slick as she exhaled a hot huff of air. “Here.. Let me call you back.” Just then the door swung open, “Thanks Abbs! I’m on the Struggle Bus today.” Dropping her phone to the pavement, a curse hissed through her lips, “Fuck!” As dark eyes shifted up they would be met with a shockingly blue pair. 

That was most definitely not Abigail. The shop didn’t employ men, and for anyone else to be here, they must have been consulting. He didn’t strike her as the usual type to come in, but who was she to judge. “Can I help you? You look like you’re struggling.” The corner of her mouth twitched in a smile as she shook her head. “Nah, I can get this. Thanks for getting the door.” Making her way into the shop, the blessedly cold A/C caused Jasmine to sigh with pleasure. It wasn’t as bad out there as it had been when she and Haz moved in June, but it was still warmer than she was used to. 

She felt tugging on the strap of her bag, and those eyes flashed for a moment, face moving up quickly to see just who or more correctly, what wanted her attention. Abigail took the heavy tote, shouldering the weight easily. “What brings you here? I was sure you’d be passed out until late.” Jasmine was an odd one. She was friendly to a point, until you reached the wall she’d build around herself. She’d come to New Orleans because it had called to her. She was running from something, like most transplants, and Abigail didn’t pry. But she was always shocked by the small pieces of information that she got as the two became closer.  
Jasmine was shaking out a thick, dark mane of hair, twisting it behind the nape of her neck securing it. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes slightly tired. Though she was a mess, she seemed cold and collected. Hemingway had perked up, his large mass thundering against the floor as he rushed towards his caretaker. “I came to feed his one. We were slammed last night, and by the time we got shut down I’d totally forgotten.” Reaching down she gave him a scratch behind the ears, pleased to hear the loud, throaty purr he always gave. “But you’ve got some company, so I can go.” 

Abigail had begun sifting through the contents of the bag, setting gemstones on shelves, and eying the rest of the materials approvingly. Jasmine always seemed to know just what to bring and when they were running low on something. She was a clever girl, with a quick wit and real talent for working with spirits. It was interesting to see her and Hazel together. They were so similar but completely opposite in their practices. Hazel was a gifted Kitchen Witch, who wove spells into her pies and cookies, making delicious meals that protected those around her. They’d moved to New Orleans together, knowing next to no one and sticking to a strict budget. They’d caught her eye one night at a little place called Rare Form. Hazel had a tall Gin and Tonic in front of her, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, all mirth and happiness while Jasmine was leaned forward, in a tense conversation with the bartender. 

“This is Zak and his friend Aaron. Mary recommended us to them. They’re here to do some investigating.” Jasmine stopped petting, and Hem made a sound of disapproval as his weight tumbled to the floor. He’d been enjoying himself and to have it stopped made him angry. He shot Abigail a positively disgusted look before he stole away to curl up against some books. “Oh? I thought you looked familiar.” She left it at that. She’d seen the show and actually tuned in to watch when it aired, but she disagreed with Zak’s aggressive style. Zak was waiting patiently, running his hands down the front of his jeans to dry his palms. Extending his hand for a shake, it would hang in the air for an uncomfortable silence as she gazed at him with those intense eyes. He wasn’t one to interrupt, investigating had opened up his abilities. He enjoyed his work, but it made him sensitive to spirits and others. Her presence was commanding, and she smelled of incense, tea, and something he couldn’t quite place.  
“Nice to meet you, Jasmine. Mary recommended we come here, she said you may know of some places to investigate. We’re looking for the spirits left behind by Katrina, maybe you know of somewhere?” A twist of her mouth changed her face from a stoic expression to one of extreme thought. Walking deeper into the shop, she opened a cabinet and pulled out a food dish. “Depends on what types of spirits you’re looking for.” Hemingway came thundering again, brushing against Zak’s pant leg before waiting by his dish. The tinkling of dry food seemed to fill him with deep pleasure and he ate with gusto. “Easy there, big guy.” Hemingway was, not to put too fine a point on it, huge. 

“Hrm. I saw the special when ya’ll came down last time. Why come back?” She got right to the point. Jasmine was a quick study and details rarely missed her sharp eye. When Zak had greeted her, she’d actively not shaken hands. It was odd if anything, but he decided not to comment on it. Attempting to redirect the conversation, he gave a charming smile, leaning his elbow on a shelf. He wanted to appear calm, unbothered by her presence or the energy surrounding her. “Yeah. I know a place. Why not check out the Laurie Mansion?” Moving about, Jasmine was putting things away, her attention focused on the task at hand. “Last time we came we couldn’t get in. No one would return our calls.” Nodding in agreement with him, she would turn around with a smirk. “I could probably get you in.” His arm slipped and he stood up taller. Aaron dropped what little trinket he’d been toying with and looked up, “Dude! Are you serious? That would be so cool! The Laurie Mansion is like, Disneyland for Zak.”  
Smirking, she gave a nod, “Yeah. Disneyland. They really love it when you talk about their homes like that.” Her voice was deadpan as she began pulling an assortment of bottles and jars out of a dusty cabinet. “What Aaron means is, it would be really important to me if we could take a look.” She wasn’t looking at him now, focused on the task at hand. Opening jars she would take a proprietary sniff, checking if the herbs were still fresh. “Uh huh.” Her presence had changed from lukewarm to cold. Putting the materials back, she would stand up, “Well. I have to go. Got a lot to do today before tonight.” Moving past Zak, she would brush past Aaron on her way out, closing the door behind her with a curt snap.

“Did I say something wrong?” Aaron was dumbfounded. Usually his jovial demeanor won him friends and didn’t upset them. “She’d touchy about spirits. She’s really gifted with spirits, real sensitive.” Offering them an apologetic smile by way of explanation, “She’s only been in the City since June. But If anyone can get you into Laurie’s it’s her. She lives there.” Zak shot Aaron a look before looking back to Abigail. “She lives there? How? I thought it was abandoned?” Abigail gave a shrug, “I don’t know how she did it. It was abandoned. It’s been lots of things since Laurie got run out of town. But she’s got the whole place to herself. Landlord asked for a year’s rent up front, since most tenants run out before the lease is even up.” Placing her hand on Zak’s shoulder, a kind smile danced on her face, “She’ll come around. Store’s closed tonight, so you can meet up. I doubt anyone is coming in, what with Mary and Christian out of town.” 

“That’s really, really kind of you.” Zak started, “But you know, we can’t ask you to close up just for us.” Abigail smirked, a wicked flash in her eyes before she clapped her hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze, “Nonsense. You pissed off my Necromancer. I’m gonna need you two to put her in a better mood before she’ll come back. This is purely selfish on my part” Aaron gave a hearty laugh as he made his way over, “Oh Dude, she was totally pissed. She was giving you serious side eye.” It was then that Zak thought he may have his work cut out for him.


	3. My Church Offers No Absolutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Without individuals we see only numbers: a thousand dead, a hundred thousand dead, “casualties may rise to a million.” With individual stories, the statistics become people – but even that is a lie, for the people continue to suffer, in the numbers that themselves are numbing and meaningless.”  
> ― Neil Gaiman

Aaron had been the first to emerge from the shop into broad daylight, musing to himself how so many people could be in one place, even in the off season. He knew Zak was pissed. After years of working together they didn’t need to exchange words for him to know. The hunch of his shoulders and the knit of his eyebrows told him to just let it lie. Jasmine’s assumption of Zak had pissed him off. In the beginning the show was all about dredging up darkness and provoking it into the light. But after years of exposure, they had all become sensitive to it. Nick was gone because of it, and while they didn’t say much on the matter it still hurt. Now, Zak wanted to answer the question, what happens after death? Where does the spirit begin and the body end? They approached spirits with respect now and tried not to provoke without good reason.

A muscle was working in Bagan’s jaw as he looked out the window, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Aaron had pulled the rental away from the curb, mindful to be quiet until Zak was ready to talk. “I can’t believe people still think that about us, you know?” Aaron made a consolatory noise as he merged into the flow of traffic and began to head back to their hotel. It didn’t happen as often now, but whenever someone brought it up it always left a sour taste in Zak’s mouth. “I don’t know what to say man, I mean, we did nine seasons of that stuff. It’s just gonna take some work before the audience shifts with us.” Zak waved his hand, scoffing, “She’s not the audience, bro. She said she’s seen it, that doesn’t mean she’s watching it regularly.” 

It wasn’t her words that had upset him. Spirit Empaths, people sensitive to Spirits and currents of energy are aware of others when they speak. She’d been different, she had a knowing look in her eyes, like she knew that Zak knew. For someone like him to say that was more than a little knock to his pride. He was sure that other Empaths out there saw what he was really trying to do and didn’t think it was for ratings. Leaning back in his seat, he brought his thumb to his mouth, chewing on a hangnail, a nasty nervous habit he’d been fighting like hell to break. “Do you think she can really get us into the Laurie place?” Aaron pursed his lips, a heavy breath blown through his nose, “I don’t know dude, I mean, it’s a long shot. If it’s the real shit, that’s fucking rad. Like, she lives there? That place is supposed to be insane.” Zak nodded, lowering his thumb from his mouth. 

Before they’d left, Abigail had given them an address and the name of a bar on a slip of paper. She said that Jasmine would be there and would be ready to talk. It was a long shot, but what else did they have to go on? Shifting his thoughts drifted to Gracie, his dog. She’d been in the hotel and would be needing a walk soon. “She could be full of shit.” His friend nodded in agreement, “And she could be the real deal. I figure it’s always a crap shoot. At least she’s not trying to sugar coat something on camera.” Zak couldn’t help but laugh. Often they would scout a location, hearing tales of prostitutes who’d committed suicide or gone missing, only to have their subject clean the story up for the interview on the record. “Yeah, I guess there’s that.” He could always count on Aaron to make light of something and turn it into something positive. 

With Gracie in tow, he’d walked about the block, getting a feel for the neighborhood. He’d just gotten back into his room when his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was an unknown number, the caller ID reading JOHNSON, BRO. Who the hell was that? A text message had arrived and his eyebrow arched, “Who’s texting us Grace?” Currently, Gracie was more interested in sniffing about the carpet and inspecting her bowl of water than listening to Zak. He could only laugh as he opened his message, which read: Abigail says I need to meet you tonite. I’ll be at Rare Form around ten. It was as good as a confirmation as far as he was concerned. Taking off his jacket, he sat down on his bed, opening up his laptop. When fans asked how working on Ghost Adventures was, he was honest in telling them that it was his passion. Absolutely his dream job, and he prided himself on the fact checking and research that went into every episode.

He spent the remainder of the afternoon fielding phone calls, text messages and fact checking. He was sure Aaron was doing the same thing, but Zak was very hands on and went over many of the same details himself. He’d called the number listed for the Laurie Mansion and verified that yes, there was a pair of tenants living there. Legally they couldn’t give out names or personal info over the phone, but the Landlord was shocked they’d stayed so long. He’d never had anyone pay a year’s worth of rent upfront, let alone live there for more than a month or two. They were apparently Graduate Students who’d come down on sabbatical or something. So first item off the list. They really could get them in, possibly, if they played their cards right. The conversation shifted from his tenants to the owner inquiring if he would be interested in seeing an apartment. It didn’t seem like too bad of an idea, so Zak agreed to get a tour of the building. If worse came to worse, they could always get in with the Landlord and just cut the Necromancy angle. 

When he was working, Zak became incredibly focused and rarely moved from where he was working. At times Aaron would have to text him with reminders to take breaks. He had been attempting to research a couple other interesting locations when he’d stopped for the day. Squeezing the bridge of his nose, he’d turn his attention to Gracie, who was currently on the floor, chewing on a toy. “What do you think Grace? You think this story is worth it?” A wag of her tail and a squeak of her toy was all he needed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Later that evening, they’d made their way towards Rare Form. It was a patio bar, that thankfully didn’t have live music that evening. It seemed like a place that saw all kinds of people, but catered mostly to locals. There were a few people at the bar, milling about, speaking to the bartender. A movement caught his eye, and he saw who was attempting to flag them down. Beside Jasmine was another woman, she was much smaller, with lighter hair and features. Where Jasmine had been brusque and standoffish, her friend was all smiles and warmth. They seemed to be quite a pair. Aaron went right over, introducing himself and Zak before they took their seats. Their table was somewhat off to the side, so they could speak privately. As they were just settling in, a tattooed man came over, asking if he could get them anything. Everyone else seemed to be fine, but Jasmine ordered herself two beers. Hazel didn’t seem surprised as she moved her straw about in the ice of her glass. Her cheeks were flushed from what Zak assumed was a mixed drink.  
“To be clear, I’m only doing this because I can’t go back to work until I meet you.” Dark eyes were glowering before a deep swallow of beer was taken. Zak squared his shoulders, chin raised just a bit as he postured himself. He wanted her to know that he wasn’t buying her bullshit and he wasn’t going to be turned away. People tended to act that way for one of two reasons. They were either genuinely an asshole and wanted everyone to know it, or they’d been deeply harmed in some way and wanted to keep people at arm’s length. “Yeah? Sorry to hear that. We’ll be out of your hair soon.” Her friend coughed as if she’d swallowed wrong and stared at her friend, “What she means is, we’ve got some time to talk.” She and Aaron seemed to be getting along well. They were both warm people who smiled easily and made friends wherever they went. 

As he turned to look, Jasmine was walking away from the table. Zak turned to Aaron, flabbergasted. How was he supposed to work with someone who wasn’t capable of simple social interaction? Noting Zak’s frustration, Hazel would offer up a thin smile, “She’s like that at first with everyone, I promise it’s not you. She’s just… I don’t know how to put it,” Her mouth twisted for a moment, before she crossed her arms over her chest, “She’s sensitive, you know?” Aaron arched an eyebrow, “Like, her teeth hurt when she drinks cold water sensitive?” Hazel’s laugh was warm and hearty, her curls shaking as she shook her head, “No! Not like that! That’s a good one.” Sipping the last of her drink, she would push the glass away, “Like just sensitive, to everything.” Aaron was still staring, attempting to understand what she meant. When she was nervous her hands became more animated as she tried to articulate her meaning, “Like.. we graduated and she says she wants to come down here. We’re both pretty broke, but she finds this amazing place for us. Nothing has happened to us since we’ve lived there. I don’t know how she’s done it, but I know she has.” Giving a nod as if to add credence to her statement, she looked over Zak’s shoulder, “She’ll be back. Look, she’s still feeling you out, but she’s really, really kind, I promise.” She smiled and Zak could see why they were friends. Hazel was a good natured person, the kind to shine light into anything.

“So you really do live in the Laurie place? Like, just the two of you?” Aaron was better at sussing out details and making small talk with strangers. Zak excused himself from the table. Jasmine may have been curt, but he wasn’t the type to let people go missing on his watch. She was standing across the patio, her face illuminated by her phone as she was texting. He considered it at least polite that she wasn’t texting while he was speaking to her directly, “Look, we can go if that makes this easier.” Looking up, she gave her head a shake. When she was away from her employer and her friend she seemed different, almost naked. She was sensitive just like he was, marked by the same empathy. It was comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one. She was avoiding eye contact with him, anything to keep her eyes from locking with his. Grasping her beer she was drinking from it quickly, “You always drink beers that fast?” She looked up for a moment, frowning, “I should really stop, but it’s the only way I know how to cope.” 

There were no hard and fast rules to Spirit Empathy. Every one handled it different, he had given up drinking entirely. He’d stopped provoking, stopped prodding, and started to wait for what was to come. “I’ve found that’s pretty much a bandage, doesn’t really solve anything.” She nodded, agreeing with him. Drinking was a crutch that she swore she’d give up when they’d moved, but when you used a mechanism for so long it was hard to let it go. “Look. It’s not you, okay?” This change of behavior was seeming to come from left field, but Zak could tell this was her and not her façade, “Then what is it?” Wetting her lips, she considered her answer, “I’ve just got a lot on my plate. We had a really shit meeting and now I don’t know what to do” She was attempting to open, but not just yet. He wouldn’t push it, if he did she’d close up again and probably not open up again. 

“Look, let’s just go sit down, and we can talk.” She shifted in her converse, considering, holding out his hand, he’d give her a faint smile, “What are you doing?” He smiled wider, “I’m Zak, you must be Jasmine.” He was giving her the chance to introduce herself again, to start over. The look on her face was one of relief, and respect, her hand was small in his as she gave it a gentle squeeze, “I’m.. Bronwen, actually.” Well, this was just getting more interesting by the second, “I came down here to get a fresh start, thought I’d choose a new name while I was at it, but .. I figure if I’m going to be of any use to you, I should come clean.” Nodding his head, Zak considered it for a moment, Bloody Mary and Christian Day recommended her themselves. They never did anything without the solid belief that it was the best course of action, “Yeah? Well, Bronwen, it’s nice to meet you.”


	4. C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that.” Haruki Murakami

He didn’t have to be kind and give her the benefit of introducing himself to her. Barely anyone new that she was living under an assumed name with her roommate. There was one instance in which upon giving her real name, the friendship had crumbled. Around these parts, after the Storm, healing took time and new comers were regarded with suspicion. Reaching out, she gave his hand a firm squeeze as they shook. Zak could be considered intimidating. Standing tall, with a broad physique, and wearing dark clothes, it wasn’t just his good looks that got him a second glance.  
For a split second, there was a feeling. Something that grabbed at the edges of her perception and made her eyes narrow for a moment. It wasn’t often that she met anyone like herself, but if there was a moment, she supposed this would be it. Spirit Empaths weren’t exactly rare, but the level of sensitivity depending on the individual could vary. “You can call me Bronnie, if you like. It’s easier to remember.” From their first meeting, Bronnie seemed to be opening up. A shy smile played upon her lips, dark eyes averted as she slowly began to relax around him.

There was a change in the woman he’d met earlier that day. She’d flown into the shop, flustered, carrying heavy bags, dark hair in disarray. She was fairly tall, standing three inches or so above the average, with dark features. Those eyes were incredibly dark, and at first glance appeared black, but as they moved to sit across from one another, Zak could see they were actually dark brown. With high cheekbones, and almond eyes, her skin ochre. With the complexion that turned dark red in summer, with a smattering of freckles. She was striking. Bronwen, a name that sounded like mythology or mystery. Not to mention Abigail had said she was a necromancer. A cursory search online, and between texts to a few crew members, Zak had learned a little about the practice.  
“If it’s okay with you, we can just hang out. We can do an interview tomorrow,” Zak shifted into his working mode. After breaking through, he wanted to establish some sort of comradery before going into the details of the Mansion. The special itself was interested in ghosts of the Lower Ninth Ward, but if there was enough evidence or locations, they could possibly split the city into two episodes. Giving a wide smile, he leaned back in his chair, ignoring the vibrating that was alerting him. Always active on social media, it was rare for his phone to not be blowing up. “So, you two live together, right?” He was expecting Aaron to chime in, but it appeared he and Hazel were in animated conversation.

“Aaron, please educate yourself, Sleepaway Camp is an underrated gem.” The corners of lips curled upward, in a sardonic hint of jest. It appeared that they had started on the right foot. Aaron’s hands were moving quickly as if to wave away her accusation, “Okay, that’s true! But you can’t just ignore the fact that it’s supposed to be a spoof!” Vehemently shaking her head, she gave a point, her cheeks flushed with the heat of the evening and her tall gin and tonic, “True. But it didn’t become a spoof until Sleepaway Camp 3, which is the truly superior film in the series.” Leaning his head back, Aaron gave a booming belly laugh that got some heads turning in their direction. Hands running over his bald scalp, he was nodding in agreement. Catching Zak’s eye, Aaron would motion, “This is Kiah! We’ve been talking horror movies. I figured you two were like, I don’t know, going Street Fighter on each other.” 

Looking over at her roommate, Bronnie would grin, “Oh yeah?” It was so easy for Kiah to get along with others. There were so many factors to getting close to people that she never had to consider. It wasn’t simply learning if another person was decent or not. She lacked the capacity to discern which emotions were the other person’s and which were her’s. Catching Zak’s eye, she gave a faint smile before looking away quickly. Her beer was sweating something heavy, and she lifted it to her mouth taking a heavy swallow. It always took a while for her to work through her emotions. Where someone could have a disagreement and be over it quickly, it always took her longer to sort out her emotions and know if what she’d said was okay or not. Social anxiety had always been something of a problem. Even when she was little she hated being stared at. The feeling of eyes focusing in on her face always made her feet hot and squirmy. She just wanted to escape staring as quickly as possible. After taking another drink, movement over Zak’s left shoulder caught her eye. There were people pointing and whispering, which would have been fine had the pointing not started. 

“Are you guys expecting anyone? We can go if you’re busy.” KIah was always able to come in with the save. Smiling affably, she started to shoulder her purse, picking up her empty glass. “Huh? What do you mean expecting someone?” Zak looked around, and made eye contact with a group sitting a few tables away and frowned. It’s not that he hated fans, it was just unnerving for them to stare and whisper. He heard enough whispers when he was working and at home, he didn’t need them when he was out. Aaron was giving a thumbs up to the group when one of them began Big Stepping their way over. Laughing as always he turned to them, “Give us like, five okay? They probably just want a picture or something.” Standing up, he was making his own exaggerated walk over, all smiles and laughing. Shooting the two an apologetic glance, Zak would nod, “We’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere, okay?” It wasn’t so much a command, as it was a reaching out. He wasn’t demanding that they stay, but he was hoping that they would know that this wasn’t something that happened every day. That their lives wouldn’t be disrupted by this kind of behavior while they were helping them out. “Oh, it’s okay! Take your time! We’re just hanging out anyway. I’m gonna go get another drink, do ya’ll want anything?” Aaron was out of earshot, and Zak had asked for water.  
As the bar began to fill up, more people were recognizing that the Ghost Adventures team was there. It was considerably more than five minutes, and when people were hinting at texting their friends to come, Zak was beginning to worry. He didn’t want to be rude and keep the ladies waiting. Looking up from the Instagram photo that was just taken, he spotted the two by the bar, speaking together. They seemed happy enough, talking with one of the staff. It seemed like they were in for the long haul, and weren’t at all bothered by the fans. They seemed to take everything in stride, which was nice. “Hey! It was nice to meet you. Thanks for stopping by.” Zak waved to the group as they tabbed out and headed off to another venue. Now the shoe was on the other foot, a few people had gathered with the two and all were speaking animatedly. As he and Aaron joined the group, he was quiet, observing the two as they spoke naturally.

“Well, you know, if you’ve got something nasty in your house, tell it to fuck off.” Bronwen’s assertion was straight to the point as she raised her beer to drink again, “You don’t have to put up with that kind of shit, if it does anything else, let me know. I can come over.” The woman whom Zak assumed was her friend looked incredibly relieved, “Really? You’ll really come over if it doesn’t work?” Bronwen gave a curt nod of her head, “Yeah, no problem. I’m off work for a few days anyway.” The look of relief on that woman’s face was nothing short of pure adoration. “Thank you so much, Jazz. Abigail told me you cleaned something out of that old bar. Said you just yelled it clean out and I just didn’t know where to turn.” She almost seemed embarrassed by the admission, as if she should have been able to do this on her own without consulting anyone else, “No worries,” a warm smile curled on her face, eyes lighting up, “I love helping people with this sort of thing, so it’s really no trouble, Rebecca. Just text me if it comes back and I’ll take care of it.” Leaning in, she gave the older woman a hug, her hand rubbing up and down the flowing fabric of her tanktop. 

Perhaps she was the right person to call. Zak had no problem standing back to see what this necromancer was actually like. Sure, this woman was using an assumed name, but the expressions on her face and the emotions he was feeling were all real. It was sort of nice, to be in the company of someone else who dealt with the same things he did. Aaron was busy sitting at the bar, looking over a menu as Kiah spoke to him animatedly again. They seemed to be fast friends, which wasn’t terribly surprising, considering Aaron’s jovial nature. As Rebecca and her friends left, Zak would move to sit at the bar, “So you do that sort of thing often?” He seemed to have caught her off guard as she typed into her cellphone, a questioning noise his answer. “Oh! That? Yeah. It goes with the territory. It’s a little different than what Mary does. Christian wrote about it in his book, but everyone’s practice is different.” While the show didn’t go much into witchcraft, Zak was finding more and more that practices were lining up with questions he’d been toying with since beginning work with the Paranormal.

It was getting late, but New Orleans was kicking into full swing. It was a weekday, but the streets were milling with people going from place to place. And while Rare Form wasn’t one of the bars that stayed open twenty-four hours, it stayed open late. The meeting had started out somewhat tense, but it was going alright. Zak learned that they’d not only gone to school together, they’d actually been office mates. They were able to feel each other out and know where the other was going. Not to say that they were carbon copies, they shared a birthday, but had subtle differences between themselves. Kiah lightened things up, and was incredibly sweet. But with a friend like Bronwen, Kiah was able to assert herself, as Bronnie was not one to be pushed around. They reinforced one another, and Zak could tell they were incredibly close. They weren’t unlike him and Aaron. When an investigation got intense, Aaron was always able to say or do something funny to release some pressure. With Nick gone and Billy stepping up to play a more prominent role, the dynamic of the team had changed. 

They were still talking when Kiah let loose a large yawn, her glasses resting atop her head. Her cheeks were still flushed and she had her head down on the bar, eyes half closed. Aaron reached over, rubbing her shoulder, “Are you sleepy already?” As she sat up, she would gesture with her pointed finger, “You don’t know who’s tired and who’s not.” Snickering, Aaron would prod her, “You got a bedtime or something?” Kiah narrowed her eyes for a moment, “We worked until three in the morning! And I had some errands to run today, I’ll have you know.” Arms crossed, Aaron would lean back on his stool, nodding, “Oh totally,” Aaron was about to say something more when Zak checked the time on his phone, “Holy shit, It’s already one?” Gracie was in good hands, the Hotel had a concierge service that walked dogs, but he wasn’t super keen on the idea of leaving her alone in a room with her pink bone all night. Bronnie yawned before drinking from her bottle. She’d had a few, and Zak was praying they weren’t driving. “Yeah, you guys can go if you want, I may just stay here.” 

Kiah was signing her receipt and shoulder her bag, “Are you sure? I can stay if you want.” Bronwen shook her head, ordering herself another beer, “Nah, you’re sleepy. I’ll catch a cab home.” Zak looked to Aaron who was staring. Zak wasn’t raised to let women stay at bars alone, regardless of the night of the week. Kiah made a faint noise, a sort of mumbling as she shifted from foot to foot, she obviously didn’t want to go alone and hearing it, Aaron sat down. Wherever she was going, Aaron was going. He had a tendency to take to people and stick with them, it was one of the traits Zak admired about him. Zak was about to make a gentle suggestion, when Kiah came in with the save, “What time are we meeting ya’ll tomorrow?” That was a good question. It’s not as if he’d be comfortable just leaving her there alone, but she seemed like she wasn’t moving, “Is lunch okay? We can figure out where tomorrow.” Kiah seemed to be in agreement, and luckily, Bronnie had ordered one last beer and her tab. Zak had given drinking up, but he was concerned that she’d managed to have a beer the entire time they’d been talking. When she was done signing, and they were getting ready to go, he and Aaron would wait with them until their cab arrived. It would just be poor manners to leave without making sure they got a safe ride.

“Hey, just.. text me and let me know when you get home, okay?” Zak was speaking to the two, but his attention was pointed at Bronnie. “Yeah, okay.” She stifled a yawn as KIah climbed into the back seat. Normally, Zak didn’t work on impulse, but there was a feeling gnawing at him and it was too big to ignore. Reaching out, he gripped her wrist gently, “Take care of yourself, okay?” Locking eyes, he was trying to impart his concern. He didn’t want to pry or project his own anxiety onto someone else, but he couldn’t help that see something of his old self in her behavior. Her eyes flickered away, “I am taking care of myself.” The cabbie looked at him as if to ask are you coming or not? Aaron was looking to him as if he was wondering what was up and he let go. “Text me.” Giving a pointed look, he would close the door behind her, eyes narrowed as the cab drove off.

Aaron would walk beside his friend, moving from shadows into light beneath the streetlights. They were quiet, pondering what had just happened. “Bro, it’ll be okay.” Looking dead ahead, Aaron shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders jerking up before dropping in a shrug, “They seem like cool chicks, I think this location is gonna be fuckin’ awesome.” Zak nodded, he agreed, but he couldn’t help but feel that gnawing again, “You mind doing separate interviews?” His friend’s expression brightened up considerably. Stepping up from Equipment Tech had given him more responsibility, and the chance to interview someone as cool as the woman he just met seemed like the ace assignment he’d been begging for, “Yeah Bro! That’d be cool!” Grinning from ear to ear, Aaron climbed into the rental as Zak climbed into the driver’s seat.


	5. Ain't No Grave Gonna Hold Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ignoring isn’t the same as ignorance, you have to work at it.” Margaret Atwood The Handmaid’s Tale

Zak had been up, waiting for a confirmation text. His foot bounced as he checked his watch again, a muscle working in his jaw. It was getting later, and he was getting nothing. Perhaps he’d been too demanding, he was often told that he had a strong presence. Sometimes that presence took the form of him being over protective of those who were around him, or entities singling him out or attaching themselves to him. New Orleans had yet to present something to them, his hotel room was empty of activity, though it was impossible to be near the French Quarter without running into something. Gracie was curled up on the bed, snoring lightly. Her paws twitched, and a sleepy sound rumbled in her chest. “Dreaming over there, baby girl?” Musing quietly, he nearly jumped when he felt his phone vibrate.

Kiah’s home safe. Headed out. 

A groan rose in his chest as his thumbs quickly worked the touch screen: Out? It’s 2 am! 

There was silence for a few minutes, and he caught himself leaning over the edge of his seat, shoulders hunched as he attempted to mentally will her to message him back. You can’t be serious. Don’t do anything stupid. 

Just getting some air before bed. Attached with a picture of a bustling crowd taken from a roof top. She was obviously above the passersby making their way to bars. Lights were in the distance and there seemed to be a wild party down below.   
Sighing an exhale, he started again as his phone showed that she was calling him. Who the hell calls at two am? “Hello?” From the other end there was a slight breeze, and the sound of an exhale, before the other end came to life, “Sorry. I have really bad insomnia, so it’s easier to just talk than it is to text.” Strangely, this didn’t feel like an inconvenience to him. Normally he’d be attempting to sleep, or posting on social media. “Why can’t you sleep, Sweetie?” The moniker slipped out, he’d been trying not to use it as often, as some women didn’t take kindly to it, but it seemed appropriate here, “You know why,” The sounds of shuffling and walking were heard as a door closed, “They don’t let you sleep either.” There was a chill in his veins as he nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Well. No, but I get some sleep, just really depends on where I stay. Is everything okay?” 

His eyes were scanning for his keys, attempting to calculate how long it would take him to get to the LaLaurie place from his hotel. He’d leave Aaron for this one and fill him in before they split for interviews. “Yeah, everything is fine. The house is really quiet tonite, so please, don’t worry.” Was it possible that she knew what he was thinking? “I’m just gonna throw this out there, are you reading me?” There was a pause and a faint laugh, “Sorry. Force of habit. I deal with a lot more dead people than living ones.” As unnerving as that was, it was also comforting, “I thought I was going crazy. I kept feeling like something was near me but I couldn’t sense anything.” It really was a relief. Ever since they’d gone to Chiaroscuro and the candle had been lit, he’d felt something. “I know the feeling. Let’s do this, Sweetie. Meet me tomorrow and we can talk all about it, face to face. I’m not so good over the phone.” She gave a faint hum as she thought about it, “That’s fair. Since you’re the inquiring party, I’ll let you pick. Sorry again about..” He gave his own laugh, as he ran a hand back through his hair, “Don’t worry about it, I get it. I’ll text you tomorrow. Try to get some sleep.” 

She assured him that she would, and he knew in his gut that she’d be able to sleep that night, that he’d be able to sleep. It was strange that he’d been all over the world looking for the answers to life after death, but New Orleans had a feel that couldn’t be compared to any other location. As he was turning off the lamp beside his bed, he had to consider just what this city was holding in store for him. There was something that made New Orleans different than London or Paris. It had the same ancient feeling, the sighs of a world weary city that had seen too much and would see more before the day was through. But Katrina had twisted that feeling and turned it inside out. The city had been breached, and the anguish and agony of those long August days had soaked into the ground, becoming part of the bedrock. New Orleans would never be quiet, not so long as the restless dead were forgotten.

Contrary weather greeted them the next day, torrents of rain with heavy grey clouds and distant rumbles of thunder. For such a pleasant evening the night before, the rain was almost a shock. Zak was shrugging off his jacket, giving a shake of his head, water shaking down from his hat. He’d chosen a place he’d been to before. They were guaranteed a quiet place and wouldn’t be disturbed by fans, his eyes trailed the room as he began to gingerly clean his glasses. He’d just adjusted them before automatically checking his hair in a mirror on the wall when she came in. She looked just as rained out as he did, but it suited her. Having not carried an umbrella, she hadn’t taken the time to bother with running. After all, it was just water, what’s the fuss? Her denim jacket was damp, hands brushing stray hair from her face. Since moving she’d begun to wear her hair naturally which could be seen on any number of women in town. Today, it was in a thick braid down her back, accented by a ringlet of golden laurel leaves that haloed her head. “Sorry I’m late. The weather is intense today.” A healthy flush on her cheeks, as she began to shrug off her jacket. Zak had stood hands out as he helped to peel the wet material from her shoulders. 

“I see that. Is it always like that?” The material was thin, but surprisingly heavy in his hands as he hung it over the back of her chair, pulling it out, “Sometimes. Sometimes you can sit in a bar and watch it rain across the street.” He was just taking his seat as he looked about the room, wondering if the reservation had been over the top. “Yeah, well, you’re here now, so if you’re gonna curse me out, I can save face.” Striking eyes went wide for a moment before a smile, “I promise, no salt today.” The candid comment made him laugh, “See, I knew you were hiding something when I first saw you.” Wagging his finger and leaning back in his chair, Zak peered at her. The entire energy of the situation had changed. Maybe meeting someone on zero sleep had been a bad idea, his ‘Lockdown Hangovers’ weren’t anything to be writing home about either.   
“Well, I’m full of surprises, or so I’m told.” Her attention had turned to the menu momentarily, her gaze much less intense when shielded by her glasses. She’d dried them off on a dry patch of her shirt. “You said you wanted to talk, and I’ve got nothing but time, so ask away.” 

"I guess I'd like to have you tell me how you came to New Orleans, and uh, how you get into Necromancy. I mean, those are things I've never experienced. I thought I was coming for a Mansion, but I'm learning that New Orleans has a lot more in store for me than I thought."


End file.
